Narnia Crossover: Book 1: The Lion, the Snake, and the Wardrobe
by RunFastFly
Summary: Conor, Abeke, Meilin, and Rollan switch roles, and they're now in Narnia! When recently adopted Rollan stumbles into a wardrobe, nobody believes him, until one day Meilin wanders in after him. The siblings now have to fight in Narnia and become the kings and queens! Please review!
1. Introduction

**YES! Narnia crossover! I have no idea if anyone will actually read this, but I realized, 'Hey, they have similar personalities. Let's go for**

 **it!' and here we are today. Sadly there will be no romance between the characters because that would be incest, BUT there will be fluff XD!**

 **Roles:**

 **Peter Pevensie:** Conor

 **Susan Pevensie:** Abeke

 **Edmund Pevensie:** Meilin

 **Lucy Pevensie:** Rollan

 **The White Witch:** Gerathon (OMG)

 **Aslan:**?

 **Mr. Tumnus:** Tarik

 **Mr. Beaver:** Olvan

 **Mrs. Beaver:** Lenori

 **I need three reviews before I continue, to make sure that I'm not the only one that likes Narnia. Thanks!**

 **And please tell me if you have ANY IDEA who the HECK Aslan could be.**


	2. Bombs

**Ninani! That's who Aslan can be! (Ninani the Swan, who creates the Nectar.)**

 **This chapter is very intense.**

 **Remember the roles.**

 _Chapter One: Bombs_

 _MEILIN'S P.O.V_

"SO WHAT IF HE'S ADOPTED?!" Meilin yelled, slamming her book to the ground. Conor and Abeke stared down at her with perplexed looks. "You didn't have to make

him run off, did you?" Conor asked. "He was being annoying," Meilin hissed, sitting on her bed. "You are too."

"He told a joke," Conor said sternly. "He was trying to be funny."

"Well jokes aren't funny," Meilin said, tossing her head defiantly. "He's dumb."

Abeke sighed. "He's getting used to the family, Mei. It's only been a month. You don't need to punch him for trying to be friendly."

"He was being annoying," Meilin repeated hollowly. "I hate him."

"You hate everyone," Conor said in exasperation. "The only things you like are pandas and being mean!"

"I'm not mean!" Meilin snarled, dropping her head. "Get out of my room or I'll tell mum."

The older siblings exchanged a look and left the room, going off to find Rollan, no doubt. _He gets so much attention,_ Meilin thought sourly, picking up

her thick textbook again. _Conor was always the perfect one, and Abeke was always the smart one. Do I need another person stealing my role? I'm beautiful,_

 _all the boys think so. But the moment I open my mouth nobody pays attention! Typical._

She flipped through the pages, vaguely aware of her surroundings. _I wish my father was here instead of in the war. He was the only one who understood._ She was

going through her book for so long she didn't notice the clock ticking by fast, and that it was nearly 12:01. "Oh! I need to go to bed!" she exclaimed,

jumping to her feet and switching off her lights. She quickly climbed back under the bedcovers and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to go to sleep.

Her mind descended into nightmares.

 _A snake. A single snake, bigger than any snake she had ever seen, was leering down at her evilly. "Hello, child," it hissed. Meilin looked around. They were in_

 _a room full of ice. In one corner, her whole family was trapped, minus Rollan. (He wasn't her REAL family, she told herself. He was still a homeless orphan.)_

 _Conor and Abeke were looking at her, and they looked terribly sad. Usually, Meilin wouldn't care, but something was unsettling about it like she had_

 _done something so bad that she had messed up the fate of the world itself. She looked at her dad and felt a pang; he looked so ashamed and heartbroken like_

 _he had been betrayed. She ran to them, calling out, except she wasn't moving. She looked back at the snake, confused. "What's going on?" she asked._

 _"You poor little thing," the snake chided. Suddenly she was on the schoolyard, being called ugly by all of those boys. And then she was watching as_

 _her mother scolded her for playing a prank on Abeke. And then she was watching as her whole family crowded around Conor when she and he were bitten_

 _by dogs, but left her to stumble into the house with puncture marks in her leg, not caring at all for her state_ _. "These are all memories," she said bluntly. "Yes," the_

 _snake said,_ _cackling in amusement. "Poor, poor thing." Abruptly, her father was floating in the air, and the snake shook its head. "Say goodbye to your precious_

 _daddy._ _"_

 _"I don't think I understand," Meilin said, frustrated. The snake was biting her father, she realized, and he fell to the ground, disappointment clearly on his face._

 _It happened so fast. "NO!" Meilin screamed, watching the venom ooze out of his arm. "DAD!"_

 _"It's your fault," he wheezed._

She woke up, a sharp gasp coming from her mouth. She touched her cheek and felt a cool wetness. _Tears._ She gulped, horrified. That was terrible; she often

received nightmares, but this one was truly awful. She laid back on her pillow, a cold sweat forming on her head.

She heard something quietly entering the room and stiffened, breathing slowly. The person walked up beside her bed and she tried not to writhe around.

"Are you okay?" the small voice said. _Rollan._ "Go away," she spat, not bothering to roll over and look at him through the darkness.

"You were crying," Rollan said. "How did you know that?" Meilin sputtered, sitting up to glare at him. The moonlight shone through the window down on him.

He shrugged. "You were really loud . . . and I've learned to listen. Night scares me."

"That's great. Go away, stupid," Meilin said sarcastically, lying back down on her side and facing the wall grumpily. "You should be asleep."

"Here," Rollan said. Meilin saw out of the corner of her eye that he was handing her something. _That dumb teddy bear,_ she thought.

"It's mine from - from the orphanage. It used to be my daddy's, before he died," Rollan said calmly. "It helps me sleep at night. You keep it."

"I don't want your stupid bear," Meilin growled. Rollan was unfazed. "Keep it tonight," he echoed. "In case you're sad again."

He got up and left the room, shutting the door, which creaked.

Meilin sighed as the door clicked shut, leaving her alone again. She sat back up and picked up the teddy bear, examining it. It was an ugly thing.

"Hmph," she said, frowning. "His father's." That made her think of her own father, and the pain stabbed through her like a knife. She choked on the tears

starting again and she furiously wiped them away. She refused to let any more emotions show. She hugged the teddy bear tightly to her chest now

and went back to sleep, repeating over and over in her mind how much she hated Rollan.

* * *

Bombs crashed down around them.

Meilin had been standing by the window, watching, when the sirens sounded.

"MEILIN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! GET OUT OF HERE!" her mother was shouting, grabbing her shoulders. Conor came sprinting into the room, leading her

out fast. The hallway blurred past her as she flung out of the door, towards the safety bunker outside. Bombs crashed around, and panic seared through her mind.

Suddenly she jolted to a stop, and her blond older brother nearly ran into her. "DAD!" Meilin exclaimed, and turned, running back into the house.

"MEILIN! GET BACK HERE!" Conor shouted. She flew down the wooden hall, bursting into her room. Her black hair was wild, tumbling down her back,

and she screamed as a bomb exploded near the house, shattering the window and causing the picture of their father, Fenray Pojalo Teng Pevensie, to

fall to the ground. Broken glass littered the room and she dropped to the ground as the foundation of the house shook. She reached desperately for the

picture, pulling it close to her, as Conor reached her. He picked her up like a baby and ran out the house, Meilin clutching to the picture for dear life.

They made it to the shelter, and Conor dropped her on the heap of blankets, sweating. Abeke knelt next to her, hugging her tightly.

"You're so selfish, you could have gotten us killed!" Conor yelled in disarray. Meilin was breathing heavily, glaring up at him and holding the frame

to her heart. Conor sighed. "Can't you just do as you're told?" he asked quietly, shutting the door.

 **Thank you for the reviews! I need two more before I continue.**


	3. Trainstation

_Chapter Two: Trainstation_

 _CONOR'S P.O.V_

"What do you mean we're going away?" Abeke asked faintly, putting down her fork. Their mother sighed, brushing her blond hair behind her ear,

as all of her children went quiet at the announcement. Rollan looked up from his empty plate and watched thoughtfully.

"It will be safer for you out in the country," their mother said softly. "We have a family friend, Professor Dawson, who lives out there. He owns

a big mansion and lots of land for you to play on. It will be exciting."

"Are you for real?" Meilin asked. Everyone turned to look at her. "What?" she caught their gaze. "I don't want to leave."

"Sweetie," their mother sighed. "It's for the best."

"I'm not going to some kooky old professor's house with _them,_ " she hissed, indicating all three of her siblings in disgust.

"It's okay," Rollan said quietly. "I'm used to moving places."

"Ha!" Meilin scoffed. "Did none of the orphanages want you? I can see _why._ " She smirked as Rollan looked back down at his plate. "That's enough,

Mei," Conor said sternly, looking sympathetically at their younger brother. Meilin scowled, rolling her eyes. "I don't want any of you to

be gloomy about it," their mother continued. "We will be meeting together soon after that. I just don't want you to get hurt.

Those bombs nearly destroyed our house."

Abeke nodded, standing up. "Then we better get packed," she said. Their mother looked at her with concern as she hopped up the stairs.

"Me too," Meilin added feebly. _Finally, an excuse to leave this dreaded table,_ she thought, storming up the steps.

"I'm sorry," their mother apologised breathily to the boys. Rollan blinked. "Why?"

"Because, you thought you finally had an official home," she said, looking at him with tears in her eyes. Rollan was about to answer but

Conor cut him off. "Mum, it's alright. I understand," he said, scrunching his eyebrows together.

"Oh, sweetie . . . get packed. I'll help your brother," their mother said, getting up and gathering the dirty plates.

She looked and saw that Abeke had hardly touched her supper.

Conor nodded and walked up the wooden staircase, going into his room. It was a homely room, with sheep-painted walls that

had been there since he was a little boy. He used to have this big fascination for sheep. He still kind of did.

He got down obediently and began to pull out his clothes, including his school uniform, and folding them neatly into

a bag. It was dark outside now, and it worried him that the raids would start again. Hopefully not.

Rollan's teddy bear had nearly been destroyed in the raids, and one of it's legs had been cindered off when Conor found it and handed it to him.

But Conor had never seen anyone look so grateful, and it destroyed his heart. When he did nice things for Meilin she usually thought he was

mocking her, so she glared at him; but Rollan, eight-year-old Rollan, looked the happiest Conor had ever seen him.

He heard someone knocking. "Come in," he called. Abeke strode in peacefully and sat down in front of him. "Yes?" Conor asked

unsurely, stopping in the middle of his folding. Abeke sighed, drumming her fingers against the floor, and biting her lip.

Finally she burst out, "Conor, how are we going to do this?" She looked so fragile, something she hated being called.

"It will be okay," Conor said reassuringly, rubbing her wrist. Being the eldest of the family, he usually took the lead role of the comforting one.

"Will it?" Abeke's eyes shone. "I don't want to leave Finchley."

"Mum said that we'd meet up again after. She said it's a big mansion, with lots of land. We can go exploring, have adventures . . . " Conor trailed off.

Abeke laughed at that. "Play silly games," Conor continued, grinning. "We can pretend Meilin is a prisoner and tie her to a tree."

"I don't think she'd like that," Abeke giggled. Conor shrugged. "I don't know! She wouldn't have any say in it."

 _Anything to keep Abeke's mind off of moving,_ he thought, watching his sister gradually cheer up.

"I suppose it would be fun," she gave in. "I'm just . . . going to miss Darcy."

Abeke had one friend named Darcy, and they always stuck together since they thought all the other girls their age were annoying. She was oblivious

to the fact that Darcy had this huge crush on Conor, and it was really awkward whenever she would often ask, "Can Conor come, too?" and Abeke would say yes.

"I'm going to miss my buddies too. But just think of this as a fun experience. Once the raids finish, we can come back and have a normal life," he smiled.

"I don't know," Abeke dropped her head. "Meilin is always in the shadows, and Rollan is so frightened of us. I'm worried that it will always be this way."

 _How did this come up?_ Conor thought deliriously. "What?" he asked, puzzled.

"I'm worried that when we go, our siblings will get worse," Abeke finally added, looking up from her lap. "Oh," Conor's mouth felt dry.

"Don't worry. They'll be fine," he said. "Are you sure?" Abeke questioned, standing up. "Finish packing. Mum says we leave tomorrow morning."

Conor watched her as she left, a sinking feeling in his heart.

* * *

The next day was bright and cheery, but not for the Pevensies. Dreary and worried, that's what they were, as they waited on the

train station. "I'm going to miss you so much," their mother sighed, pulling Conor into a hug, and then Abeke. She attempted to

give Meilin a hug but Meilin turned her head sharply, facing the wall. Their mother exhaled and kissed the top of Meilin's wild black hair.

Conor gave the youngest girl a look. "What?" she hissed as mum went over to say goodbye to Rollan. Conor raised an eyebrow as she coldly

glared at him. "You _know_ what," he said, his voice low. "Screw off," Meilin said scathingly, stepping on the train when she saw it arrived.

They each stepped onto the train, walking past the rows of kids staring up at them. Conor gulped and found an empty one, and the four

Pevensies slipped inside. Conor, Abeke, and Rollan waved, shouting farewell to their mum. "I LOVE YOU!" their mum yelled after them,

tears in her eyes. She was trying to stay strong.

Meilin glowered at her feet, scrunched up in the corner. Rollan played with his teddy bear. Abeke read a book. And Conor waited.

 **Thanks again!**


	4. Wardrobe

**I forgot to add the ages! Conor is 13, Abeke is 12, Meilin is 10, and Rollan is 8. Happy reading :)**

 _Chapter Three: Wardrobe_

 _ROLLAN'S P.O.V_

"Oh, my, it's beautiful," Abeke gasped as they pulled onto the lush green field. Shady trees dotted the range, and a large elegant mansion loomed in the

distance. "I've never seen anything quite like it," Conor agreed. They were crossing over a flat stone bridge, being pulled in the carriage by Mrs. Greencloak,

Professor Dawson's housekeeper. Rollan looked down at the crystal clear water in awe, leaning over the side of the carriage.

"Get back, you're going to fall," Meilin snapped.

"Although I wouldn't mind if you did," she muttered under her breath. Rollan looked up as they trotted through the grassy glade, the sunlight shimmering

in the thick green leaves that were canopying them currently. He had never seen anything so pretty.

The children did not have many bags, and they were shabby at best, but Rollan had made sure to pack his teddy bear. Meilin had never thanked him for it,

but he was happy that he gave it to her because she stopped crying. He even got on his tippy-toes to go in and check on her;

his new adoptive family didn't know, but he didn't sleep much. He was accustomed to staying awake through most of the night, in case someone were to ever

come in and hurt him. He trusted his new family, but he was still not used to it. So of course, he only wanted them to be happy. Even if Meilin was a _little_ rude.

"Professor Dawson is not accustomed to havin' children in this house. And, as such, there are a few rules we need to follow. There will be no shoutin'. Or runnin'. No

improper use

of the dumbwaiter," Mrs. Greencloak said, starting up the wooden stairs as the children gazed around. The inside of the mansion was just as pretty as the outside,

Rollan concluded. He saw Abeke reaching to touch a statue by the corner of the staircase. "AND NO TOUCHIN' OF THE HISTORICAL ARTIFACTS!"

Mrs. Greencloak shouted, whirling around and startling Abeke. Meilin smirked. "And above all, no disturbing the Professor," Mrs. Greencloak continued in her regular

tone, continuing up the steps. Conor placed a reassuring hand on Abeke's shoulder and the children all followed, Rollan in last.

* * *

Rain pattered on the window, the four Pevensies sitting in the cold dark room. Only one lamp illuminated it. Meilin sat under a chair, who knows what she was doing,

and Abeke was curled up on the couch with a dictionary, Conor sitting in the other chair.

"Gas-tro-vas-cu-lar," Abeke sounded out. "Come on, Conor. Gas-tro-vas-cu-lar!" They were playing a dictionary game. Abeke had insisted, but Conor

wasn't that good with words. "Is it Latin?" he sighed, looking at her. She nodded. "Yes."

"Is it Latin for 'worst game ever invented?'" Meilin asked, sliding from underneath the chair. Conor agreed with his youngest sister for once in his life.

"We could play hide-and-go-seek," Rollan said from the window-seat. He had been watching the heavy thunderstorm, trailing his fingers along the cool glass and

drawing faces when it fogged up. It was a habit of his, the others noticed.

"But we're already having so much fun," Conor said in a slightly sarcastic tone, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Abeke, who narrowed her eyes and shut her

book. "What else is there to do when it's raining?" she asked. "We can't tie Meilin to a tree in this weather. And it's supposed to be like this for the entire

rest of the day."

"Tie me to a _what_?" Meilin snarled, curling her hands like claws. "Please, Conor," in a swift motion, Rollan was standing beside his older brother. Conor looked down in

those warm brown eyes. "Can we please play?" Rollan looked so innocent.

"1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . ," Conor began, smiling without hesitation. He wanted Rollan to be comfortable and feel included.

Rollan grinned and scampered out of the room, Abeke and Meilin at his heels. **(insert music XD)** The younger boy ran down the wooden hall,

laughing gleefully. If Mrs. Greencloak were here she'd be yelling at them because they were probably breaking about sixty rules right now.

He hopped up to an embroidered curtain, but Meilin sprinted in front of him. "I was here first," she said automatically. Rollan huffed and ran the other way,

checking all of the doors. They were unluckily all locked. "22, 23 . . ." Conor's voice echoed down the hall. Rollan twisted a golden knob

and was surprised to find it opening at his touch. Quickly he jumped inside, turning to shut the door. He looked back at his surroundings and stopped.

The room was cold and empty. You could hear a pin drop, and the room was coated in a light layer of dust. He breathed in, looking around.

There was no lamp, but there was a small window, and because it was raining it was dull and poorly lighted.

A massive object stood in the back wall, covered by a long white tarp. Rollan was curious as to what it was, and his feet rocked back and forth

against the wooden floor. He heard Conor calling, "READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!"

Rollan was too interested in the tarp to care, and he slowly padded towards the mysterious object. He trailed his fingers along the tarp and held his breath,

slowly tugging. The heavy veil began to fall and landed in a heap beside him.

In front of him was now an extravagant dark wood wardrobe.

His breath caught. _A wardrobe! It's lovely,_ he thought. _I've never seen one so . . . nice. I wonder if there are coats inside._ His curiosity perceived him,

and he opened the door, expecting it to be locked. Instead, it opened with a quiet creak. "Where are you three?" Conor's voice rang,

alerting Rollan back to his senses. Quickly he hopped inside, not closing the door, for anyone knows it's stupid to shut oneself in a wardrobe. But he did

close it enough so that if Conor were to enter he would not immediately see the younger boy hiding.

He backed up, grasping the furry cloaks and keeping an eye on the room's door.

The fresh scent of pine needles and a sudden chill overcame him, and it confused him a great deal, but he didn't pay attention to it.

His fingers pricked something and he jumped back instinctively, worried that the bullies from the orphanage had come back to hurt him again.

Then he realized that wasn't very logical thinking, and he relaxed, turning around to see what it was.

 _What?_ he stepped down into something freezing and white and began to shiver. _That's odd._

He continued on and realized he was walking through prickly dark green bushes. _That's even odder! Where exactly am I?_

Then he walked out into the open and gasped in shock. He was in a snowy wood, the white snow glowing brightly against a gray sky.

 _This is impossible! Even MY imagination can't do THIS. It looks so real! I must be having a dream!_ He grinned. _It's a very good dream, then._

 _I better not waste it!  
_

He shuffled quickly, looking around in wonder at all the snow. A little light was faintly glowing in the distance and he walked towards it,

and as he came closer, he realized it was a metal lamp post. Then it all was very clear; this was definitely not a dream. It was too real.

Almost as soon as he thought that, he heard a noise rustling next to him, and jumped back, watching with frightened eyes.

 **(cue the suspenseful music.)**

The rustling got louder and louder, and he heard soft thudding footsteps, matching the beat of his heart. He didn't dare make any noise.

He saw a man step into the clearing, and Rollan screamed, leaping behind the lamp post. The man, or rather goat man, screamed at the same time,

dropping his bags and cursing. Rollan watched with wide apprehensive brown eyes as the goat man bent over to pick them back up.

He walked slowly towards the goat man, unsure of what he was seeing. "H . . . hello, young . . . " the goat man's eyes swivelled, looking Rollan up and down.

"You're a boy," he whispered.

"Of course I'm a boy! What are you?" Rollan asked in defense, forgetting his fear almost instantly. "I am a faun," the goat man said sternly. "How

did you find yourself lost in these woods?"

"Who's to know I'm lost?" Rollan asked nonchalantly, picking up one of the faun's bags and offering it to him. The faun hesitated and gradually took it. "My

name is Tarik," he said feebly. "Who are you?"

"I'm not to talk to strangers," Rollan said immediately.

The faun chuckled. "I can assure you I am no stranger to these parts, Son of Adam."

"Son of who?"

"Son of - forget it." Tarik smiled genuinely. "It is nice to meet you."

Rollan could see he was telling the truth, so he held out his hand, saying, "You too, Mr. Tarik."

Tarik blinked at the hand. "You're supposed to shake it," Rollan added. "Oh," Tarik blinked again. "I've never heard of something as unusual as that."

Rollan laughed, putting his hand down. "It is rather weird," he agreed. "I don't know why people do it."

"Well, would you like to come with me to my cabin and have tea?" Tarik suggested. "I don't know . . . I've just met you," Rollan said,

turning serious. Tarik nodded. "Yes, but you look cold."

"There are coats back in the wardrobe," Rollan said fervently. "War Drobe? I've never heard of that country," Tarik said. "It's not a - umm,

yes, it's a lovely country," Rollan said, smiling because he thought they were playing a game. He was a clever and intuitive boy for his age,

smarter than most kids older than him adults would say, but he was still a kid, even after all he'd been through. And meeting a friendly goat man

in the middle of a snowy forest was something he had never done before.

"I promise you, I will not hurt you. I would just like to chat," Tarik continued. Rollan, too fascinated to catch the lie in the man's voice,

shrugged. "Maybe for a little while. But I better be getting home soon, or my family will be worried."

"Lovely!" Tarik clapped his hands joyously, like an otter. "Follow me, it is this way."

Tarik lead the boy down the path, and if Rollan hadn't been so busy thinking about how cool this was, he would have noticed

the poster on the back of the lamp post with the picture of a snake with gleaming fangs; ' _Gerathon, Queen of Narnia.'_


	5. Liar

_Chapter Four: Liar_

 _ROLLAN'S P.O.V_

"Here we are," Tarik said, leading Rollan towards a homely little cottage concealed by a gray cave. He held the door open

good-heartedly for the little boy, who smiled in thanks and walked on in. The cottage was warm inside, much to Rollan's

relief, and it had a wooden floor, many books lining the shelves, and pictures and couches to sit on.

Tarik wiped off his hooves on the doormat and shut the door. He hung his scarf while Rollan traced the picture

of an elderly-looking faun. "Oh, don't touch that!" Tarik said hurriedly, picking it up and placing it on the fireplace mantel,

out of reach. Rollan frowned at this. "It's a very nice painting," he complimented as Tarik began to set a tea table

with red placemats and white china teacups. Tarik smiled gracefully at the comment. "Thank you, Son of Adam. It is

my father."

"He looks like you," Rollan said while taking a seat. Tarik sighed. "He is nothing like me," he said darkly, feeding some wood to the

kindling fire. Rollan was puzzled, but Tarik cheered up almost instantly. "Would you like some tea, er-"

"Rollan."

"Ah, yes! That is a very suiting name for a handsome young chap like you," Tarik said, picking up the steaming teapot. Rollan beamed. He

had never been called handsome before. He accepted the tea, grateful for something hot to drink, and took a sip.

"So, how did you come to be in Narnia?" asked Tarik loftily, staring at Rollan and taking a drink. "Well you see, I was in

the spare room-" Rollan started. "Spare Oom? Is that the village you are from?" Tarik interrupted. Rollan started to shake his head but then

nodded. "I've never heard of such places! Are they nice?" Tarik's eyes widened.

Rollan's eyes brightened enthusiastically. "It's _beautiful!_ There's a pond, and lots of trees, and a big old mansion with lots of spare rooms!"

"Are all of your villages called Spare Oom?" Tarik asked inquisitively. "Kind of, but there's also bedrooms and bathrooms, of course. My bed

is really fluffy, I've never seen one quite so large until I came to the mansion," Rollan continued, taking a cookie and cramming it into his face.

Cookies were his favorite treat in the whole wide world. Too bad he never got them.

"Bedd Ooms and Beth Ooms? My, that's confusing," Tarik set down his teacup. An idea seemed to cross his mind. "Narnia is pretty as well.

We have great music," he suggested. Rollan's brown eyes widened. "Would you like to hear me play one of Narnia's traditional songs?" Tarik continued,

reaching over to pick up an elegant bamboo flute.

Rollan nodded, entranced.

Tarik took a deep breath and began to play. It was the most delightful song Rollan had ever heard in his whole life, and one

he was never going to forget. He smiled, listening, but suddenly his eyes started feeling heavy, and he yawned. Maybe it was

the combination of the warm hearth and tea and that tune, but he was beginning to feel tired. His eyes drifted over to the flickering

fire that glowed orange and red against the cindering wood. He yawned again, abruptly feeling a little weak.

 _I wish I had that fluffy bed with me right now,_ he thought vaguely, watching the flames dance around. He began to see

shapes in it, hopping around and running. Then, a swan, and it let out a great SCREAM-

* * *

Rollan woke up, dazed. He was in a pitch-black room, and he could hear soft crying next to him. Worriedly thinking it had

all been a dream and that Meilin was the one crying, he leaped to his feet, only to realize that it was the faun.

Reality sunk in for the first time and he ran towards the figure. "Mr. Tarik! What's wrong?" he asked, getting to his knees.

"I'm a very, very bad faun," Tarik said mournfully.

"What? You're the nicest faun I've ever met! You're nicer than Conor!" Rollan said, thinking it impossible but still wanting to comfort.

"No, I'm not. I'm not anything like my father. He would be so ashamed," Tarik wailed. "But what on earth have you done?" Rollan asked, looking

around in bewilderment. Everything is always more mysterious in the dark.

"I've kidnapped a child," Tarik sniffled. " _Kidnapped_? That's terrible! I mean - I'm sure they're okay now. You must be sorry for it, too,

and I'm sure you didn't mean to do it. You're so nice," Rollan said reassuringly.

"Don't you understand?" Tarik asked quietly. Rollan paused and shook his head.

"Rollan . . . YOU'RE the child," Tarik whispered.

Rollan gulped, a feeling of dread creeping into him. "No, you wouldn't do that," he said.

"But I have!" Tarik sat up. "And I have to take you to the Snake! She made me do it! She said, any human that any of us came across,

we were to kidnap and bring to _her_. Or else we get turned to stone!"

"That's awful," Rollan breathed. "You can't, though, you mustn't!" He crawled backward. "It's too late," Tarik shook his head. "They already know

I've got you. I'm so sorry," he began to sob. Rollan handed him his handkerchief, and he blew his nose loudly.

Rollan felt panicked. What did a snake want with him? A lot of thoughts ran through his mind and he bit his lip, thinking of all the evil things

snakes did to people. A snake had killed his real father, several years ago, before his mother abandoned him at the doorstep of an orphanage.

"I need to go home," he said. "I need to. My siblings have probably searched the entire mansion for me. They must be worried. Well,

Conor and Abeke at least."

"You're right," Tarik said shakily, tucking the handkerchief in his pocket. "We must be quick, though. The trees have been watching."

He opened the door, not bothering to put on his coat, and snatched Rollan's hand, pulling him quickly through the forest.

Rollan ran to keep up, nearly tripping a lot of times, when the reached the lamp post. "Run home and don't come back,"

Tarik said rushedly, pulling out the cloth. "You'll be safe once you reach War Drobe."

"Keep the handkerchief. To remember me," Rollan said firmly, gently closing Tarik's fingers around the scrap of cloth. "Thank you

for the tea," he grinned that soft, boyish grin, and turned. "Goodbye, Son of Adam!" Tarik shouted as Rollan

scurried through the trees, in the direction of the wardrobe, and began to enter. He smiled and walked through the

furry coats, opening the wardrobe door, and he was back in that room. He dimpled in excitement and ran out, bursting

open the door that lead into the hallway, shouting, "I'M HERE! I'M HERE! I'M OKAY!"

"Shut up! What are you doing?!" Meilin hissed, sticking her head out from underneath the curtain. Rollan stopped.

"But I'm alright. Haven't you been wondering where I've been?" he asked, confused. "You IDIOT, that's the point!" Meilin snarled.

Suddenly Conor entered the hallway and looked at both of them. "I don't think you two quite understand the game," he said slowly.

"What's all this commotion about?" asked Abeke, lifting herself out of a basket. "Rollan was shouting," Meilin spat.

"I don't get it. I was gone for hours and hours," Rollan looked hurt a little. "What do you mean?" asked Conor, leaning down.

"Let me show you," Rollan lead Conor into the spare room. Abeke and a disdainful Meilin followed. "I went in that

wardrobe, and met a faun," he said. Conor and Abeke went over, checking the back and inside. "There's nothing here, Rollan,"

Conor announced, coming out of the wardrobe. "Just coats."

"It was a game," Abeke said. "Let him have his imaginary world."

"I wouldn't lie about this!" Rollan felt tears stinging his eyes. "Ha! Right. Didn't I tell you about the football field in the bathroom cupboards?" Meilin

asked mockingly, beaming sarcastically. "Leave him alone Meilin, you're a complete beast," Conor said in irritation.

Meilin bristled, glaring at him. "Shut up!" she shouted, getting in his face. "You think you're dad, but you're _NOT_!" she stormed out of the room.

"Well, that was nicely handled," Abeke sighed, looking at Conor, and going after their sister.

Conor gulped, and then looked at Rollan. "Sorry," he said meekly, and then walked out too, leaving Rollan alone.


	6. The Snake

_Chapter Five: The Snake_

 _MEILIN'S P.O.V_

That night, Meilin awoke not from horrible nightmares but from the sound of creaking footsteps echoing outside her door. She got to her feet,

her sleek black hair falling messily to her back. She saw the candlelight flickering through the cracks of the door and she smirked, an idea coming across her mind.

She tip-toed through as quiet as a mouse when the candlelight faded down the other end of the corridor, and she followed him. Rollan.

Her mind drifted to what Conor had called her earlier and she felt her temper flare. She tilted her chin proudly and pursued her younger brother;

nothing could get her mind off of something except picking on those who were smaller than her. Mainly

because she herself had been a victim in school, and nobody ever stood up for her. It was so unfair for Conor to call her a beast. People were mean to her in the

academy and he wouldn't even bat an eye, whereas he always stood up for Rollan. _I hate Conor. And Rollan,_ she thought bitterly, creeping down the passage.

 _Abeke too. She's the worst sister I've ever had._

Her brain forgot to add that she was the _only_ sister she had.

She slinked around the corner and watched with narrowed brown eyes as Rollan opened the door to the spare room. She followed as he walked inside,

like she was his shadow. He opened the wardrobe and it creaked, and Meilin felt a chill as wind unexpectedly rushed into the room and blowed

out the candle. Meilin darted forwards when he stepped inside. She leered, climbing in. "Rollan," she said in a sing-song voice. "Ro-o-l-l-l-an.

Where are you?" She grinned in delight and shut the door. "Oh no! It's dark in here now," she said mischievously. She was confused when

her words only met silence. "Rollan?" she was actually puzzled now and she stumbled forwards. For some weird reason, the wind felt

even colder now. It must have been her imagination, she decided determinedly.

She walked backwards. How big _was_ this wardrobe? It seemed endless like there was no back at all.

Then she tripped.

She fell back into something freezing and she jumped to her feet, hissing at the cold. "How did you-?!" she turned and her eyes widened. Snow.

Everywhere.

Overhead there was pale blue sky, the sort of sky one sees on a fine winter morning.

Straight ahead of her she saw between the tree-trunks the sun, just rising, very orange and red and clear. Everything was perfectly still, as if she were the only

living creature in that country. There was not even a bird or a squirrel among the trees, and the wood stretched as far as she could see in every direction.

"Oh my panda," she gasped, stumbling forwards. She shivered, as she was definitely undressed for this weather. "Rollan!

Rollan?!" she called. "I think I believe you now! Please come out. I - I'm sorry!" she flinched at the last words. "Oh do come out. I know now

that you were right all along - it's Meilin!"

Only stillness met her words.

She huffed. "Just like a boy. Sulking somewhere and not accepting an apology," she sniffed. She trekked through the fluffy snow, not sure where

she was going, but she was searching for some footprints maybe her brother had left.

The sound of jingling bells stopped her and she looked around curiously. She listened and the sound came nearer and nearer and at last there swept into sight a

sledge drawn by two beautiful reindeer.

The reindeer were about the size of horses and their hair was so white that even the snow hardly looked white compared with them. Their harness was of scarlet.

On a high seat in the middle of the sledge sat a very different person - or rather snake, taller than any snake that Meilin had ever seen.

Its face was white - not merely pale, but white like snow or paper or icing. It was a beautiful face in other respects, but proud and cold. Oh,

and very snake-like. (Obviously.)

Meilin took in a sharp breath, turning to go the other direction. It was an odd sight seeing a snake in a sledge, but something about it seemed very

dangerous, like something inside of her was telling her to run and not look back. "STOP!" something shouted, and she could tell it was directed at her.

She turned to see a blond girl with a very sharp dagger running at her. She gasped and began to sprint away. Meilin could run like the wind,

her father used to tell her, but the blond girl was on her in seconds, pinning her to the ground and holding the knife to her throat.

"Ahh!" Meilin shielded her face. "Who are you, vermin human?!" the blond spat. "I - I'm Meilin! Let me go!" Meilin cried. "Ceas-s-s-s-e, Drina," the snake

said. Drina glowered and did as told, leaving the wide-eyed Meilin in the snow.

"Meilin, you s-s-say? What are you doing in Narnia?" the snake asked venomously, causing the black-haired girl to flinch. "What is Narnia?"

Drina was smirking now. "How dare you address-s-s-s your queen that way?" the snake was insulted. "Oh, your majesty. I'm sorry," Meilin stuttered.

"Do not mind, fair Daughter of Eve," the snake brushed it off. "Would you like to come in my s-s-s-led and have a chat?"

"A chat, your majesty?" Meilin climbed to her feet wearily. "Are you going to . . . are you going to bite me?" she looked nervously.

"Bite you?" the snake burst into chilling laughter. "Oh, no, dear s-s-sweet thing. I promis-s-s-e I do not bite."

Meilin glanced around before taking slow crunching steps towards the silver sleigh. She climbed in, sitting next to the overlarge serpent.

"They call me Gerathon," the queen said simply. "I can make you anything, as long as you answer a few of my unprotruding questions."

"Can you make me taller?" asked Meilin. The queen merely hissed with laughter again.

The young Pevensie thought about it. "Turkish Delight, please, then," she said. Drina took a green flask out of her coat pocket and poured out a single drop. Meilin

watched in amazement as the drop spread, turning into a shiny platter of Turkish Delight. "Turkish Delight," Drina said, handing it to the other.

Meilin was hesitant to take a bite, but deciding that she could trust these people, she took a bite. It was the most delicious treat she had ever had.

"This is good," she announced through a mouthful.

"So tell me, how did someone as . . . _beautiful_ as you enter Narnia?" Gerathon asked deceptively.

"An orphan they say is my brother, Rollan-"

"There are more of you?" asked Gerathon, hissing happily. "Yes. I have three, unfortunately. Two awful brothers and one obnoxious sister," Meilin mourned.

"Meilin, I would very much like to meet the res-s-s-st of your family," the snake said cunningly.

"Really? They're nothing special," Meilin mumbled.

"Oh. I'm s-s-sure they're not nearly as delightful as you are," agreed Queen Gerathon sympathetically.

"But you see, Meilin, I have no children of my own. And you are exactly the sort of girl where I could see, one day, you becoming princess-s-s-s of Narnia -

maybe even queen," she continued. Drina scowled.

"Really?" asked Meilin thoughtfully.

"Of cours-s-s-e, you'd have to bring your family s-some time too," said Queen Gerathon cheerfully.

"Oh. Do you mean Conor would be a king?" asked Meilin, a little sulkily.

"No! No, no. But a queen needs s-s-s-servants." Gerathon smirked coldly.

 **"** I guess I can bring 'em," Meilin let a little smile tug at the corner of her lips. "Good," Gerathon bobbed her head. "But do you suppose

I could have some more Turkish Delight?" Meilin asked, getting down from the sleigh. It had been so good, and she was starting to crave it again.

"Next time, bring your s-siblings-s-s-s to my ice castle. I will make you a princess-s-s-s, and you can have all the Turkish Delight you want," Queen Gerathon

pledged. "Thank you, your majesty," Meilin said. "You're welcome. Don't forget!" And the jingling carriage lurched forwards, leaving Meilin standing there.

Out of nowhere, a little voice broke her out of her trance. "Meilin! You're here too!" Rollan was running through the trees. He flung

his arms around her, causing her to stumble a bit. "Where have you been?" she asked accusingly.

"With Mr. Tarik," Rollan beamed, stepping back. "Apparently, there's a snake in Narnia who claims to be the queen, but she's really not. And she's

trapped Narnia in an eternal winter."

Meilin blinked. "Eternal winter?" She looked around cautiously. "Yes. Oh I'm so glad you're here too, now Conor and Abeke will HAVE to believe us!"

Rollan said excitedly, grabbing her ungloved hand. He frowned. "Meilin, you don't look so good."

"Well - uh - of course I don't! It's freezing!" Meilin wrapped her arms around her shoulders as an excuse. The real reason was

because she had eaten that entire box of Turkish Delight, and she was beginning to feel a bit sick.

"We have to go back to the mansion. We can tell them about it, and we can come here and have adventures with Mr. Tumnus," Rollan said happily.

Meilin was about to object but then she thought about that snake, and so she nodded.

Her little brother led her to the pine bushes behind the burning lamp post, where they crawled through the tight space, and they

were back in that wooden wardrobe. "Come on, then," Rollan prodded Meilin and she continued through the fur coats.

She opened the door silently and was surprised to find that it was almost the exact way they left it, like no time had passed at all.

She stepped onto the ground. "Follow me!" Rollan grabbed her hand and pulled her towards Conor and Abeke's room.

"CONOR! ABEKE! WE HAVE SOMETHING IMPORTANT TO SAY!" Rollan burst into the room, jumping on Abeke's bed and startling her.

"Hmm? What is it?" Conor sat up and rubbed his eyes. "We've been to Narnia!" Rollan got off of Abeke's bed, smiling.

"Not this again," Abeke groaned, lying back in her bed. "And this time, _Meilin_ came with me," Rollan grinned.

Conor looked at her. "Is that true?" he asked.

She suddenly felt weird and shook her head. She didn't want to be picked on by them. She was absolutely certain that

they would just make fun of her.

"Well . . . not exactly," Rollan said. "She wasn't with me the whole time. Where _were_ you?" he turned around slowly to face her.

All three of her siblings looked at her expectantly and she felt her face flush a little.

"Oh, I was just playing along," she said casually, sitting back on the bench. "We were playing a game. Imaginary, of course -

I don't know what on earth he means, I think he's gone batty."

Rollan looked at her, looking deeply wounded. "Some little children don't know when to stop pretending," Meilin said, smirking.

The little boy began to cry and ran out of the room. "Rollan!" Both of the older siblings jumped to their feet. "You've done it

this time," Conor growled, shoving Meilin onto the bed and running after the orphan.

* * *

 _ABEKE'S P.O.V_

Abeke took a step back when she saw who Rollan had run into - he was hugging the professor, sniffling into his shirt.

"What is going on?" demanded Mrs. Greencloak, storming up the stairs. "Everything is alright, Mrs. Greencloak," Dawson

assured. She glared at the children. "They aren't supposed to be out of bed," she snarled.

"Mrs. Greencloak," Dawson raised an eyebrow. She huffed. "Please take the little one back to his bed," Dawson continued.

The woman rolled her eyes and took Rollan away.

"You seem to have upset the delicate internal balance of my housekeeper," the professor chuckled.

"We're sorry, sir," Conor stuttered, grabbing Abeke's hand and pulling her back. She nodded, embarrassed. "It's quite alright,"

Professor Dawson said merrily, looking down at the children.

"That was our brother, sir," Conor said blamelessly. "The weeping boy," Dawson assumed. "He's upset," Abeke nodded.

"Hence the weeping," Dawson confirmed.

"He thinks he's found a magical world," Conor said helplessly.

Professor Dawson smiled and shook his head. "Kids these days, eh?"

"Yes," Abeke said tentatively. "Although I suppose he was just wanting us to play along. A wardrobe is a convenient place to

pretend imaginary-world."

Professor Dawson ceased his chuckling abruptly, and he looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Wardrobe?" he asked, disbelief evident

in his voice. Abeke exchanged a look with Conor. "Yes?" she tilted her head. "Is something wrong?"

"Come with me," Professor Dawson said, turning and walking down the hall. The two followed, unsure of what they were getting into.

He lead them into a nice office, and he offered them seats. They took the seats gratefully.

"What was it like?" the professor asked seriously, leaning back in his chair.

"Like talking to a lunatic," Conor said.

"No, no! Not your brother!" the professor laughed heartily. "The wardrobe!"

"Well . . . he said that there was a faun," Conor hesitated. "Why is it so important? It was a game of his."

"Do you know that?" the professor raised an eyebrow. "We checked, sir. There was no world inside. He had to be making

it up," Abeke said softly. "And you are positive about that," Dawson said strangely. "You're not - saying you _believe_ him, are you?" Abeke asked.

"You don't?" Dawson pushed further. "But of course not! Logically, it's impossible," Abeke said, looking into his eyes with her brow creased.

"What do they teach in schools these days?" Dawson breathed. "Anyways, continue." Conor nodded at Abeke, and she took a deep breath. "You

see, sir, he won't stop going on about it. He says he's found a magical forest, and that Meilin came with him, but Meilin says

she was just playing along. We fear for his sanity."

"The boy is normally a truthful person, I would suspect. Out of the two of your younger siblings, who would you say to be more honest?" Dawson

asked. "Well . . . typically Rollan, sir," Conor said sheepishly.

"Reasoning!" said the professor half to himself. "There are only three possibilities. Either your brother is telling lies, or he is mad, or he is telling the truth. You know

he doesn't tell lies and it is obvious that he is not mad. For the moment then and unless any further evidence turns up, we must assume that he is telling the

truth."

Abeke looked at him very hard and was sure from the expression on his face that he was not making fun of them.

"But how could it be true, sir?" said Conor.

"Why do you say that?" asked the professor.

"Well, for one thing," said Conor, "if it was real why doesn't everyone find this country every time they go to the wardrobe? I mean, there was nothing there when we

looked; even Rollan didn't pretend there was."

"What has that to do with it?" said the professor.

"Well, sir, if things are real, they're there all the time."

"Are they?" said the professor; and Conor did not know quite what to say.

"But do you really mean, sir," finally said Conor, "that there could be other worlds - all over the place, just around the corner - like that?"

"Nothing is more probable," said the professor, taking off his spectacles and beginning to polish them, while he muttered to himself, "I wonder what they _do_ teach

them at these schools."


	7. Discovery

**Meilin is very argumentative with Conor, as Edmund is with Peter, and she is also (obviously) rude to Rollan, like Edmund is to Lucy in the beginning.**

 **Yeah, she kind of acts like a brat, but it makes me laugh. Enjoy this.**

 _Chapter Six: Discovery_

 _NOBODY'S P.O.V_

For once, it was not raining, much to the children's relief. Rollan laid underneath the shade of a tall oak tree, reading a book and immersed

in his imagination while his siblings all played around. "Why are we even outside?" Meilin muttered. Abeke smiled. "Because, it's finally good

weather. We could all use the fresh air," she said. "It's not like there isn't air inside," Meilin grumbled, looking around the sunshiney glade.

Abeke huffed. "He shoots, and he scores!" yelled Conor, and both girls turned to see Conor, grinning like a dog, throwing a ball in their direction. It hit

Meilin square in the arm. "OW! Be careful, you beast," she snarled, picking up the ball after rubbing her arm. "Don't you want to play?" asked Conor, still grinning as

he tilted his blond head.

Meilin tossed her head. "And I don't want to be reading any of those boring old books, either, so don't suggest it. I'm not as dumb as Rollan."

"Now," Conor chided, a stern look replacing his previous amusement. "Stop being so hard on him."

"He didn't hear it," Meilin said, picking up the bat, probably changing her mind about the 'no'. "Give me your best shot."

Conor complied and Abeke took a step back, watching as he threw the ball. Meilin swung and it hit the ball with a loud _CRACK!_ and went soaring upwards.

The three of them stared in open-mouthed shock as it crashed through a window, shattering it. Rollan's eyes widened as he had been watching as well,

and he scurried after his siblings as they rushed upstairs to see the damage. There was painted glass all over the room and Conor picked up the ball.

"Oh, well done, Mei," he said angrily. "Not my fault you great lummox-" Meilin began defensively when they heard a voice. "What was that?"

The four Pevensies exchanged a desperate look. "Mrs. Greencloak," Abeke whispered.

They faintly recalled the woman telling them that this afternoon she would be doing a tour, and that she was not to be disturbed. Her footsteps came closer.

"Run," Meilin suggested weakly, and they all scampered out of the room, trying to find another one that would do. Instead all of them were locked,

and they rushed down the hall, trying every golden knob they could find. Nothing. "Hurry, hurry," Conor ushered, frantically tugging

on all three of his siblings. Meilin opened one door, and it opened at her touch. "Get in this one!" she said, running inside. They stopped

when they saw what room it was. "The wardrobe," Rollan said mystically. "We have no time for that stupid game," Meilin spat, flinging open the

wardrobe's wooden doors. They each went in one by one, Conor coming in last. He shut the door, leaving only a crack, and he peered out the opening. The door to

the room began to twist open, and his heart hammered inside his chest as he turned to follow his siblings to the back of the closet.

"This is a mighty big wardrobe," Abeke announced. "Shush!" Meilin hissed. "You shush!" Abeke snapped back. "No, you! And stop pushing!" Meilin scowled.

"You stop!"

"Quiet, you two!"

"She started it!"

"Rollan? Rollan, where did you go-?"

"Ahhh!" all four of them fell into something freezing. "What the-?" Conor stood up slowly and gaped in awe. He was in a winter wonderland.

They were all silent with their amazement when Rollan stepped in front of his three elders. "See, I told you it was real," he beamed.

Conor smiled sadly. "I suppose you were right. Would saying sorry be enough?"

Rollan shook his head, pretending to be serious. Then he pulled out a snowball from behind his back and flung it at his older brother. Conor laughed

in surprise and threw his own snowball back, and soon Abeke had joined into the fight, while Meilin stood off to the side, observing her surroundings.

Conor threw a stingingly cold snowball at her, and it hit the same place he had hit her with the ball only ten minutes ago. "Ow!" she cried, glaring

daggers at her brothers and sister. They all stopped their antics, looking up at her. "Stop playing around," she scolded, holding her arm. "We ought

to find the lamp post where-" Meilin realized what she had said and covered her mouth.

"You said you've never been here before," Conor said, standing up slowly. "I - I haven't," Meilin stuttered, her eyes blazing. "Then how did you

know there was a lamp post?" asked Abeke.

"I just assumed-" Meilin tried her best to keep her voice sturdy, but Conor would have none of it. "Say you're sorry."

"What?" Meilin looked offended.

"Say you're sorry!" Conor exclaimed. "To Rollan?" Meilin asked incredulously, like it was the most insane thing she'd ever heard.

Conor took a threatening step towards her. "Fine, alright! I'm sorry," Meilin said to Rollan. Abeke nodded. "It's alright, Meilin. I forgive you.

Oh, can we see Mr. Tarik?" Rollan piped. "Mr. Tarik?" asked Conor. "My friend, the faun. He is very nice," Rollan assured.

"Before we do any exploring, we should get coats. It's freezing," Abeke shuddered. The other three agreed. "Let me fetch us some coats, then.

I'm sure the Professor wouldn't mind us borrowing a few," Conor said helpfully, going into the wardrobe and coming back a minute

later with four fluffy coats. He handed one to Abeke, then to Rollan, and Meilin last. Meilin wrinkled her nose when he handed her's to her.

"That's a hideous cape. It looks like it's for old men."

"I know," Conor said skeptically. She opened her mouth in anger.

"Lead the way, Rollan," Conor said.

 **No updates for you until I get two reviews. Ha I'm evil**


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